Of Poisons and Roses
by La Sorelli
Summary: The characters of our beloved story are faced to live with consequences of their actions. Deception and betrayal destroy lives as they become entangled in a dangerous web. Leroux, Kay,a bit of ALW and such. Reviews will be appreciated.
1. Poisons

"_They were not given power to kill them, but only to torture them for five months. And the agony they suffered was like that of the sting of a scorpion when it strikes a man."-Revelations 9:5_

A grasshopper; green, long bodied, and evidently harmless, is in many cultures one of God's greatest creatures. In the nation of China, these insects are associated with prosperity, happiness, luck, wealth and virtue. Some regions consider them symbols of fertility, particularly the birth of a son. There are places where they are even kept as house pets, rather than a dog or cat. In Ancient Greece, the grasshopper indicated the nobility and protection of wealth. The Athenians adorned themselves in grasshopper shaped jewelry, as to present their nobility to the public.

Amongst the Bohemians of Europe- artists, musicians, dancers, and writers- the grasshopper is of great appeal. The creature's lilting music is an inspiration to their art. They admire the grasshopper's individuality as an emblem of intuition. It is the belief of these Bohemians that the grasshopper chooses innovators, free-thinkers, and those who live life in an unorthodox manner, as though it is a muse or guardian. The grasshopper leaps high, beyond boundaries and rules, into places where others fear to tread.

If there was ever anything quite so opposite the grasshopper, a symbol of well-being and courageous creativity, it is the scorpion. Darkly and fatally poisonous, the scorpion is a symbol of hatred, anger, envy, pain, wickedness, fear, and most significantly, death. In Ancient Egypt, Set, the God of Death is in the form of a great scorpion. In the Christian religions the scorpion will often represent Judas, the betrayer of Christ, or even Satan himself. After the King of the Jews was killed, the scorpion became a well-known symbol of violent anti-Semitism.

The ancients believed that during the months of October and November, when the constellation Scorpio shone in the skies, the poison of the scorpion was the deadliest. Those at risk were the innocent; young children, the crippled and mentally ill, but most predominately, the virgins. To a young virgin woman, the scorpion was a symbol of lust and temptation, and she feared it greatly at the threat of losing her innocence.

A righteous girl, if asked to choose between a grasshopper and scorpion, would of course choose the grasshopper. But a scorpion, being the clever trickster that he is, could easily disguise himself as a kind, safe grasshopper; and by that he could lure the young woman to him. Using tricks and deception, the scorpion could easily have that young woman. When the time came, he would unmask himself, revealing that he was a scorpion, and the poor girl would be trapped. Nowhere to run…nowhere to hide…and the scorpion would inject her with his sting mercilessly. She would be left to slowly die; destroyed and ravished. A good girl, a religious girl of virtue, would know all about the scorpion's tricks and steer completely clear of the temptation. Never to be touched by it's poison.

Yet for some, even when a grasshopper is placed before them, the temptation of the scorpion is just too much. Although they love the grasshopper, and want it with all their heart, they want the scorpion as well. They just want to know what it feels like to be stung, but then pull away before the venom releases. And even if they are poisoned, they believe it can be sucked away by the grasshopper, by returning to his safety. They do not think about the pain they put the two through by their indecisiveness. They simply want to have the grasshopper and forget all about the scorpion as if it never happened.

They do not realize that some poison cannot be sucked away and that they too will eventually be left dead and ravished.

There will be nowhere to run or hide.

And the memory of that scorpion will torturously remain; like a slow-killing poison.


	2. Out of the Darkness

_ These papers come from the private collection of The Persian, also known as, the Daroga of Mazanderan, which were given to M. Leroux during the time of his investigation of the strange happenings at the Paris Opera. They are in no particular order. The dates, assumedly, take place during the late winter and early springtime of the year 1880, during the term of Monsieur le Presidente Grévy. _

_ The other writings, are those of Christine (nee Daae) de Chagny, her son Charles de Chagny, her husband, Raoul, former Vicomte, de Chagny, the late Philippe, former Comte, de Chagny, Signorina (La) Anna-Sophia Sorelli and of Marguerite "Meg"(nee Giry), the Baroness de Castelot-Barbezac and her mother, The Widow (Antoinette) Jules Giry. These documents were found and presented to M. Leroux by the gracious Baroness herself, who prefers to keep the source of her findings private. The dates are not specifically known for these documents. _

_ Any other documentation within these papers is a public record, newspaper article, court report, or part of the memorandum book of M. Armand Moncharmin, co-manager of the Opera during the incidents. None of these papers were documented in M. Leroux's 1910 serialization, and later novel, Le Fantome de l'Opera, due to confidentiality agreements made with the Chagny family._

_ Upon the death of M. Leroux they were discovered, and placed into the Opera's archives, which you are now reading. _

_ The first series of papers, which you are about to read, are those of the 'femme fatale' herself, Christine (nee Daae) de Chagny. Mme. de Chagny died in 1917 and we believe it was afterwards that the Baroness, who was a great friend of Christine's, uncovered the papers._

For what seemed like hours, we stumbled around in pure darkness. Though he had told us the way, we still felt quite lost. We had the special lantern, the one with the small red disk inside, but it scarcely illuminated the inky blackness. Raoul said nothing to me throughout the underground journey. After being locked up for a night in that old Communard cell, his words were scarce. I was glad, for I did not feel at all like speaking. We were tired and cold and longed for fresh air in our lungs. But those hours beneath the Opera felt like an eternity, a horrible, black fate threatening to stretch on forever.

I knew sometime very soon I would return. I had made a promise to Erik, that poor, miserable soul. The sometimes Angel, sometimes Devil. I had promised to see him before he left this earth, and when he had left, I had promised to give him a funeral service. To sing him a requiem…the one last song I would give him. Raoul did not yet know of this insane request, but I was certain he would not approve. But I would go still, despite of his wishes. For I knew in my heart I had already betrayed him…in a way so terrible I cannot speak of it. What would one more betrayal do?

The entire journey we clutched hands. Every now and then I looked over my shoulder, sensing someone was there. There was no one, only my wild and deranged mind playing tricks. We tripped over rocks and slipped on places where water had leaked through. Rats scurried around us, running to their dark holes for safety. Those tunnels were a prison, one wrong step and you would be stuck there forever, a prisoner of Erik's kingdom.

Then at long last we saw a faint light ahead. _"Please be the gate…please be the gate." _I prayed silently. As we got closer, I was thrilled to see that it was in fact the gate. At last we had some luck. Raoul helped me up the treacherous stone stairs, avoiding the underground lake just at the end of them. I took the large, brass key from my pocket and pushed it into the old lock on the gate. After several trial turns, the lock finally gave way, and swung open with a loud creak.

There we were, out at last. Paris was in the middle of a glorious April rainstorm. Sun shone through the clouds, illuminating the falling raindrops. We ran out into the boulevard, holding our arms out under the rain in ecstasy. The passers-by stared at us curiously, wondering why we did not shelter ourselves from the rain as they did. I felt the dirt and darkness of the tunnels wash from my skin. It was like being spiritually cleansed. I looked at Raoul and saw him grinning; grinning and laughing. And I could not help but laugh too. He picked me up and spun me around and around, in the middle of the Rue Scribe.

"We're free from the darkness! Oh glorious, glorious light!" he shouted into the skies unguardedly, his voice rejuvenated by the light and rain. Then we kissed in a wonderful, feverish, soaking wet passion. "How I do love you!" he said fervently into my ear. We stood there, embracing tightly, not afraid to show our deepest affections. As we shared that exchange, an all-consuming feeling of adoration for him, the man who had risked his existence to save me, came over me. It was dizzying and impossible to ignore.

"I love you." I replied, at a loud, clear volume. I was no longer afraid of those words.


End file.
